Not Quite Sure
by westpoints
Summary: [Roman Holiday] A series of vignettes after the end of the movie. There's two weddings, two babies, and a lot of alliterated names.[complete]
1. Permission to Withdraw

Something that I needed to get out of my system before I started including _Roman Holiday _references in my school essays.

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

* * *

Out of all the things she could have said, "So happy" was all she could come up with? Why not "Nice to see you," or even "Charmed," like every other line she uttered to every other press man she had ever met. No, "So happy," was all she told him, when at that moment she was anything but. 

And he knew it.

_Damn him_. She never cursed, either. But then, she had never done a lot of things.

_Damn that smile_. She had seen him at the front of the crowd, and he smiled. He _smiled_ at her, and she knew that he knew that she knew that he had lied, just as he did when he knew that she knew that he knew she wasn't Anya "Smitty" Smith, and just as he did when she knew that he knew that...there wasn't time for this.

_I'm sure I'll read about it in the dailies_. She almost turned around to ask the Countess about the paper, when her mind registered that the elderly woman was already speaking.

"...Really, in all due respect, your Majesty, could you have been less diplomatic? 'Rome, by all means Rome'? I've no idea what you might possibly have been referring to unless it was that horrible stunt you pulled—" _But it wasn't so horrible. I would much rather ride around Rome in a scooter than give boring speeches to tradesmen_.

"Thank you," she interrupted. They stood still in the hallway. "I was caught up in the moment. I should not have said it. I am sorry."

"You do realize that Rome will now be touted as 'Princess Ann's Favorite City' and that at the end of your Goodwill tour you have brought about no Goodwill whatsoever due to that statement?" _I didn't intend to do that_.

"I do, and I am prepared for whatever the consequences may be," she said icily. She turned and began walking back into the reception room, with the Countess trailing behind her. "Are they all quite gone?" she asked the guard near the stage.

_Was it a stage? It feels like one; the only stages I've seen are in theaters, but this one is high and spot-lit enough to be a stage._

"Yes, your Highness. There was one man who lingered about, but I think he has left." _Joe_. _Joe with the elevator apartment and large pajamas._

"I think I'll walk around this house once more before I leave it." _Beautiful, beautiful house, with so many angels._ "If you are finished, that is," she said to the Countess.

The Countess looked at her for a moment before brushing past her.

"I'll just go pack your things, shall I?" _No, wait._

"Countess, would you happen to know how much money it would take to go to America?" That_ was my question? _

"You need hardly to concern yourself with such matters," was the reply. She watched the retreating figure.

"You have my permission to withdraw," she whispered.

* * *

Just to get this out there, I loved the ending of the movie, but if they had included Ann saying that last line right before she leave the press conference, just saying it to herself, I would have died with happiness.

Reveiw, please.


	2. Far Enough

Disclaimer: If I owned this, I would not be posting. Discuss.

I've had the idea of a series of notes going back and forth between them, but I hate taking up so many words actually writing the note, so...I apologize for the brevity of them.

_

* * *

_

_"So happy, Mr. Bradley."_

_Was she?_ He doubted it. If she had been, she would certainly have come up with a better line than "So happy."

Which led him to what he was holding in his hand. The item in question was a long white envelope, no return address, and obviously slipped under his door; there were no stamps attached. _Amazing, the powers of observation_.

He slit it open and extracted a thick sheet of paper, unadorned but reeking of money. He knew what it was, had been expecting it ever since he'd seen her at the press conference.

_Dear Mr. Joe Bradley;_

_I hope that this letter reaches you in safe condition. By the time you get this, I will be far away, and I trust that you won't try to contact me. For the sake of my sanity, promise me this._

_I told you that I would arrange for your compensation for taking care of me. I hope the delay has not lessened your opinion of me, for here it is, you see._

_I am, sincerely yours,_

_Princess Ann_

_Well, she's certainly informative in her writing._ He folded the rest of the envelope up and stuffed it in his pocket. There was no point in investigating the remainder of its contents.

_There's nothing here anymore. _Rome had lost its charm.

America was far enough.

* * *

Poor guy. Please review.


	3. Cherished

Disclaimer: I own the DVD, if that accounts for...oh, it doesn't, does it?

I'll probably just update as I get them out...maybe twice a week.

* * *

_What am I..._she pulled at the lace around her neck. The dress was tacky, and she had said so, but it seemed that, while no one cared, no one was allowing her to change, either. 

_Which is so unfair; I've nothing important to do today. I might was well wear slippers and a nightgown and be done with it_.

Joe should have gotten the letter by now. She had asked him, pleaded with him, almost, not to write back, and she hoped that he didn't. She wasn't even supposed to contact him, anyway.

_Stupid of me._ Of course she wanted him to write back. It just wasn't in the interest of duty, such an awful word, for her to get hung up on him. But she did desperately want him to write back.

"Ann?" She looked up. "Ann, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

_'Course not. _She wasn't supposed to shorten her words, either.

"Of course," she said. "You were just talking about how much the public relations in Europe could be improved if one of the countries would just accept—"

"No, that was five minutes ago. Ann, dear, where has your head been? Ever since you've returned from your tour, you've been angry and sullen, and you can't even—Ann!"

_What?_

"Yes, Mother?"

"That is exactly what I'm talking about. Just because you slipped out on the town for a day doesn't mean that you can waltz back in without a care and make changes all around the place. The Countess has been in hysterics because of your behavior, and frankly, I'm beginning to see why!"

_Would you prefer a minuet?_

"I'm sorry, Mother, I don't know what's gotten into me. I suppose I just don't cherish Rome as much as I thought." Her mother sent her a condescending glance.

_I love it._

_

* * *

_

Corny, corny line, but I could not. Help. Myself. On a side note, if Ann's mother was in the movie, I probably would not have liked the character. Which is probably why she's so misunderstanding in this piece.

You know what to do...


	4. Short For AhnDrayAh

Disclaimer: Not mine. No point in stealing.

This one, I think, should be set at least a year after the last one.

* * *

He had seen her in a bar a while after he moved to New York. Granted, it wasn't the typical place for a dame to be found, but there she was, sitting sulkily at the end of the bar, nursing a martini. 

_You could try to be civil_. He wasn't sure when his inner voice had reverted to third person perspective, but he didn't like it.

"Er. Hello," he said to her. She sent him a sidelong glance. "May I enquire as to why a lady such as yourself would be sitting in a place such as this?" He gestured at the bartender. "Get me a scotch on the rocks for the lady."

"Yedonfrmy." He looked at her.

"Come again?"

"You don't have to do that for me." She turned to look at him.

"What if I want to?" She shrugged, her brown curly hair bouncing on her shoulders for a second before settling.

"Suit yourself." _You should_. He wasn't sure if the voice referred to the woman next to him or himself. They talked for a few minutes. He offered her wine.

* * *

She was Italian, (_Just in case the appearance threw you off_) but she was raised in Boston. 

She hated the smell of coffee, especially the stuff they serve at the end of dinner parties. Almost guaranteed to be toxic waste by tomorrow, she said from her perch on his couch.

Her family owned a small business; she never told him what it was. She wanted to be a writer.

It was ridiculous, her role in life. _In most cases, at least_. They had ordered everything for her and provided for her and made sure she got educated, and one day she decided that she didn't want to live with her parents anyway and took a bus to New York._You could think of worse things to do_. And now here she was, talking up a storm in his apartment.

"It's a nice place," she said.

"It's a place to sleep," he replied.

"A nice place to sleep, then." He left it at that, and continued working on his typewriter. Two stories sold, both based on encounters with certain ladies in his recent past. He never let her read them, and made sure to hide the magazines they were published in.

"If you've watched me write it, then what's the point of reading what you've already seen?" he asked her. She laughed and asked, Why not? He never answered that.

* * *

Her name was Andrea. 

He asked if he could call her Ann. (_Ahn-dray-ah, it was short for, you told her. She laughed at the mispronunciation and said yes.)_

_

* * *

_

Introducing one of my favorite characters in my other, non-posted writings, Ahn-dray-ah. (I actually know a woman named Andrea who insists it be pronouced that way, in case you were wondering).


	5. Freak Accident

A/N: There's a butchered _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ quote in here somewhere. Whoever finds it gets a treat.

Disclaimer: I...do...not...own...any...of...the...characters. No, that wasn't too hard to say.

I'm thinking at least six months after the last month. But I'd normally give it a whole year.

* * *

"There has been a problem, your Highness." 

"...Still investigating..."

"Not sure of the circumstances..."

"...Didn't see it coming..."

"Some sort of freak accident..."

"You must take their place, your Highness..."

And, because duty called, she had to take it.

It wasn't supposed to be there. She glared at the offending piece of paper. She wanted desperately to read it, but she knew that it shouldn't even have been sent.

Self-control wasn't one of her stronger suites.

_Dear Ann,_

_I know I promised,a long time agothat I would not write to you. However, as you well know, I am not one for keeping promises._

_You shall become a wonderful queen, and that is not a lie. I have every faith in human relations, particularly yours. I suppose the right thing would be for me to wish you luck, but luck has nothing to do with it...does it?_

_I won't be in Rome for your tour. I'm sorry, but I think that we both know it's for the best. Try not to fall asleep on the side of the road again._

_Years ago, I said that I wanted to tell you something. But, I can keep one promise, and I won't tell you. Not unless you want to know._

_I highly doubt you do._

_Goodbye, Ann,_

_Joe_

Of course she wanted to know. But if she asked him, she knew that she would leave her post and never return. Duty called.

_Of course. Duty_. Still, she was disappointed that he would not be in Rome.

It seemed fitting.

_Romanticist._

She would like to go out and drink. Go out and not return until she was drunk. Until she was very drunk, indeed.

It wasn't allowed. Responsibility, no, _duty_, kept her from doing so.

Duty to her country, now that it was demanded, not merely asked.

She had never found out exactly what the freak accident was.

* * *

Wishful thinking, I know.

Please reveiw.


	6. Fall for Pretty

Disclaimer: Not mine.

My school calls Matrin Luther King Jr. Day "reading day." When asked why, I told my friends, "It's because there's only three black kids in my school, and this is the Deep South." How sad. Racist pricks.

There's a _Charade_ plug hidden away in here.

* * *

She was pretty. He had noticed this the second time they'd met.

He sat glumly in a coffee shop, having woken up at noon that day, nursing a headache he wasn't sure how he got.

Work wasn't a very appealing idea.

"Fancy meeting you here," she whispered. He didn't know how she knew, or how she'd found him.

"Not something I think about very often, I'll admit." She smiled at him, straight white teeth flashing for a second against her dark skin.

"You seem tense."

"I feel horrible." She offered him a cigarette. He gladly took it, noting in the process that she did not smoke with a filter.

"It's like drinking coffee through a veil," she told him when he pointed this out. He admitted that it wasn't very pleasant.

He told her he didn't know how he'd gotten so drunk. She replied that many people don't.

"Do you always have a comeback?" he asked her. She smiled again. Her eyes were a deep brown, and they sparkled whenever she was happy. He wouldn't find that out until later; but they were sparkling now.

"It's a habit." He told her it was a good one; she should keep it.

She told him his sense of humor was horrible, he should lose it.

He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. She laughed and pulled on his arm.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go for a walk."

They sat by the fountain in silence, pondering the looming buildings around them.

"Do you suppose one day they'll build one so high that we won't even notice how high it really is?"

"How's that?"

"That one day there will be so many of these huge things that we won't even see them anymore."

"I guess." She caught him staring. "But then, I also guess that by that point, no one really works in those buildings. They'll all be run by machines."

"Huh."

"Hey Ann?" She looked up. "Nothing. I just wanted to see if you'd respond." Andrea raised her eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She really was very pretty. He could fall for pretty.

* * *

Review and I might put a shameless reference to a movie/book/person of your choice in the next one.


	7. American Holiday

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I fully intend to bring the two together. Probably in the next few chapters.

_

* * *

_

_America would be lovely_.

"Why can't I go to America?" she whined to the Countess.

"My dear, this is not the behavior of a queen. You are the ruler of a country in Europe; therefore you should restrain your first tour as a _queen_ to the said continent. Besides, you do not need to be going to America. Horrid people, shortening their words," the Countess said with disapproval.

"But I do that all the time," she said.

"A perfectly good reason for you not to go then," came the sharp reply. "At any rate, there will be American press."

"It's just not the same." She sat cross-legged on her bed.

_Being a queen is a terrible bore._

"Do stop that, it is not a very ladylike position." She stood up sulkily. "We are ending the tour in Rome."

"I know," she said.

"I was hoping that this news would be more exciting than that."

"I don't know if I should be excited."

* * *

Please review! 


	8. It Was Okay

One of my favorite chapters to write. I would really love to explore Andrea's character, but...yeah.

Disclaimer: I'm not quite sure who this film belongs to, but I am quite sure it's not me.

Song (lyrics) to keep in mind:

Cause you and I both loved  
What you and I spoke of  
And others just read of  
Others only read of the love, the love that I love

--Jason Mraz, "You and I Both"

_

* * *

__"You should always wear my clothes."_

He had told her that a few days after she moved in. She smiled. _Lovely smile she had._

"What a shame it is, then that you're clothes are too big." She didn't have dimples, only smile lines, and somehow he was okay with it.

They went down to the bar to celebrate. He ordered champagne, but she countered it with a shot of whiskey. And somehow, he was okay with that, too.

Irving found them an hour later, tipsy and ready to pour their life story out over two shots of alcoholic stupor.

"Joe? Joe Bradley?" He turned and frowned at the vaguely familiar face.

"Irving? By God man, you've shave your face!"

"So I have."

Irving found Andrea amiable. Andrea found Irving strange. _And somehow, they still find common ground to mock you_.

"Oh, that's not the only time he passed it up; when we used to work together in Rome, Joe here had five thousand dollars almost given to him!"

"Almost?" She asked, her sharp brown eyes (_Can eyes ever be sharp?_) looking mirthfully at his.

"Well, this was when Prince—What?" _Oh dear, it looks like Irving is accident prone today._

"There you are, Irving, spilling things all over the place again." Irving knew enough not to push it.

"Go on."

"When an extremely important person was touring Europe. She tried to give her guards the slip and go out for a day around Rome. Joe was offered five thousand dollars to get an exclusive interview with her, and he did...but he passed it all up!" Andrea looked at him expectantly.

"It just...here was a girl who'd never been outside in her entire life without ten people to pick up her used hanky. And now she has the chance to do that without anyone noticing, and I couldn't ruin it for her. It was her wish." _She wished it with you. _She didn't say anything. Irving laughed.

* * *

Later, she told him that she understood.

He looked at her.

"I know you do, Ann." She smiled at the old nickname. _Was it really that old?_

He knew she didn't understand, not really. And somehow, he was okay with it.

* * *

Review and I'll be happy?


	9. Joincidence With a C'

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I promised myself, when I began writing this, that I would not, _would not _do this. But, here it is.

A "Friends" reference (Yes, the TV show) is in here. That's not really fair. A "Friends" reference is on the webpage. By that I mean, I made a reference, but it's **not in the actual story. I just gave it away, didn't I?**

* * *

"You have an interview tomorrow." 

"Do I?"

"With one of the news branches in America and their reporter."

"Hm. Does that mean the entire branch or just the reporter?"

"Just the reporter, your Highness."

"Hm."

"I cannot cancel it, your Highness."

"No, I don't suppose you can. 1:15?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"Thank you."

* * *

"You cannot be serious." 

"Does this look like a joking matter?"

"Morgan, I'm not cut out for this sort of work! I quit years ago."

"Look here, Bradley, this is America. We own the world, and if we can't catch one of the most loved people of Europe and bring her over here, then what are we in the world?"

"Then send Johnson."

"I can't, he doesn't do well on planes."

"Well..."

"You have to go this for me, Bradley."

"...Yeah. Yeah, all right, I'll go."

* * *

"Your Highness, Mr. Joseph Barnhill of the New York Times." 

"Charmed. Mr. Barnhill, if you...if you could just have a seat right there, I will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you, your Highness. I was wondering if...if there was anywhere we could do this interview in private?"

"Of course. Why don't we retire to the...to the, er, to the gardens?"

"But I believe it's going to rain, your Highness, perhaps—"

"The gardens will do perfectly."

* * *

"What are you doing here?" 

"Making a living."

"With the fake name?"

"Only way you would let me in."

"Not for long."

"Now look here, Ann...ya. The way I see it, I'm just a stranger hammering for a story, and you're a queen. You can either refuse my request for an interview, or you can talk to me. I didn't come here to start something I can't finish."

"You know I can't cancel."

"Then say yes."

"Fine."

"You look cold."

"Looks can be deceiving. You looked like a nice, honest man when I first met you."

"You were sedated. Anyone could make that mistake."

"I'm sure."

"You're cold. Have my jacket."

"It seems that every time we meet, I wear your clothing."

"You look good in it."

"So I do."

"How have you been?"

"I should ask you that question; you've read all about my life in the papers."

"It's more fun in person."

"Speaking of which, why didn't you write that little article about me?"

"I promised I wouldn't."

"You make lots of promises, Mr. Bradley. Very few of them you've kept."

"You're an observant girl."

"Joe!"

"You had the pictures, Ann."

"Never stopped you before, I bet."

"I suppose you've forgotten all about them."

"Of course not. Here, I don't need your jacket."

"Suit yourself."

"I shall."

"I moved."

"To America, I heard."

"You are well-informed."

"How do you like it there?"

"It's Rome covered with glass and no history."

"Very droll."

"It is. My apartment has a kitchen."

"And I'm sure you still eat out all the time."

"I've learned some tricks."

"Not nearly enough, I bet."

"No, not nearly enough."

* * *

The next two will also be dialogue only snippets of their interveiw, because I can't possibly do Audrey and Gregory justice in describing their actions. Use your imagination. 


	10. Favorite Cities

Disclaimer: I don't own them, dammit.

Still dialogue only. Hur-rah.

* * *

"What are you really doing here, Joe?" 

"Well, I'm a reporter working for his American newspaper to get an article about everybody's favorite monarch."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"No...ulterior motive?"

"None whatsoever."

"Thank you."

"You've changed, Ann."

"I've grown my hair back out, if that's what you mean."

"Not quite. You've just...changed since I last saw you."

"That's what people do. They change."

"That's it. Right there. You weren't so...so quippy."

"Is that a word?"

"Well yes, it's an American word that means a—"

"Person with a great deal of charm."

"That's a ringer."

"I do own a dictionary."

"So you do."

"What were you going to ask me?"

"I don't suppose questions on trade relations would interest you."

"I've been giving the same answers for five years. I've no idea why they would change."

"I thought not."

"Aren't you going to write anything down?"

"Should I?"

"I've never been a writer, I wouldn't know."

"You needn't be so snippy."

"I'm not being snippy."

"How's queening?"

"It is the most horrible thing you could ever imagine."

"I have a very good imagination."

"More horrid than that."

"But your people depend on you."

"That is why I am here 'queening,' to use your horribly made up word."

"You like that word, admit it. Do you think you'll be a good queen?"

"What makes a queen good is judged by the standards of the time. I cannot tell the future."

"That is the most diplomatic answer I have ever heard."

"You probably heard the least diplomatic answer ever from me, too."

"You're right, I probably did. I think you'll make an excellent queen."

"You are an incorrigible liar."

"I'm not lying."

"There you go again."

"Ann?"

"Yes?"

"Is Rome still your favorite city?"

* * *

Significantly shorter than the previous one, but then next one is important, and I wanted to end it with that question. 


	11. Kisses in the Rain

Disclaimer: Paramount owns _Roman Holiday_. I am not Paramount.

* * *

"It's raining." 

"That it is, Joe."

"Your shrewish Countess person was right."

"She is a very nice person, and she is not a shrew."

"Well, she looks like one."

"And I look like a mouse."

"Well, if you lost that bit—"

"Enough."

"Do you want to go back inside?"

"Unless it is an issue with you, I would prefer to remain outside."

"Then outside we shall remain. I suppose, now that you're a queen, you have to look for a nice prince to marry."

"It's been suggested."

"I'm sure there are plenty of eligible bachelors waiting to take his place at your side."

"Don't sound so bitter."

"I'm not bitter."

"If...if it's any consolation, you are still the only man I've ever kissed."

"I'm not surprised."

"That does wonders for my self-esteem, but neither am I."

"You're soaking. You should go back before you catch cold. Wouldn't want Countess Shrew to come out looking for you."

"She is not a shrew, and I can look out for myself, thank you."

"Never doubted it for a moment."

"Thank you."

"What was that?"

"That was a kiss."

"Well, I understood that, but what I—are you doing that to make me stop talking?"

"I might be."

"You are a horrible little girl, Ann."

"Oh, please."

"We really should stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Don't. This might be the last time I get to be with you."

"Don't think I don't know that."

"Then don't tell me."

"It's hard to hold a conversation with you when our lips are constantly touching."

"Then don't hold one."

"Ann..."

"Don't tell me."

"Ann, I'm married."

"You're...married."

"Yes."

"I told you not to tell me. You don't even have a ring!"

"I'm not a man of tradition. I met her in New York. After...after I left Rome."

"What's her name?"

"Andrea."

"Is she beautiful?"

"No more beautiful than you."

"Now you're just trying to be nice. Do you love her?"

"If I knew what love was, then I could answer that."

"You know."

"I suppose I do."

"Congratulations. Can I assume that this is not what you intended to tell me last time?"

"You can."

"I suppose we really should stop."

"Then why are we still doing it?"

"Because it feels right."

"Always a good reason."

"I think so. I think now you should leave."

"Are you crying?"

"It's just the rain. Goodbye, Joe."

"I still haven't told you what I meant to tell you."

"It's for the best."

* * *

That's the last of the dialogue only pieces for now. And no matter how much I rewrote that last line, I still can't get it quite right. 


	12. Could Be Broken

Disclaimer: Is my name on the contract? It is...n't?

I just wanted an excuse to write a piece based on this song:

_

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ She should have known. He was bound to fall for someone. 

Someone smarter and prettier and funnier.

Somewhere, in all the poems she had to memorize, there was something about unrequited love. Or a broken heart. Something to that effect.

She felt something in her chest, something behind her heart, pull.

_I am having a heart attack._

Silly notion. She was not so very old.

_Did anyone ever ask me if I wanted to be a princess?_

Probably not. She tugged at her sleeves. The dress was pink, and she despised pink.

Pink was the sort of thing you wore a little of. Pink ribbons or pink bracelets. No one, and that included her, no one should be cocooned in the horrid color.

Her pseudo-heart attack subsided

_I suppose the diplomatic thing to do would be to get married, and get married quickly._

She couldn't help feeling jealous of Andrea.

The one thing she wanted she couldn't have any more.

She grew up a princess; she was supposed to get everything she wanted.

Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

If she really loved him, she should be happy knowing that he was happy.

She knew she was getting sick; probably from sitting out in the rain hours after he had left.

The Countess had looked at her disapprovingly and hurriedly bid her to change into the hideous abomination she was wearing now.

If she had any expertise in the area, she would have said that her heart could be broken.

She wouldn't be too sure of the symptoms.

* * *

Poor girl.

Review! NOW!


	13. Oh Richard

Nice and short, just to bridge from their last encounter to the next one.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own any part of this wonderful movie. Alas, I have used the word "alas" in the worst possible way.

_

* * *

He's not half bad. For a man twice my age._

She forced another smile. The story was mildly amusing, but after countless other mildly amusing stories, she could no longer register genuine enjoyment.

"Countess, who am I entertaining tomorrow night?"

"Prince Richard, your highness. You know the one." She rolled her eyes. Yes, the one.

"Indeed I do." She shouldn't be so nitpicky. After all, should she marry, she would stay at home.

Marrying an older man would be easy.

_I'd have only ten years in captivity_.

But she wanted to be in love.

_Romanticist._

_

* * *

_

Short. Hur-rah. Anyway, I'm posting the next one very soon; it's already written.

Meanwhile, please review.


	14. Letters not of the Alphabet

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I do not claim them. And...um...gum?

* * *

There it was again. She couldn't say she was surprised. _Well, I could, but it wouldn't be true_. 

A simple, white envelope with a New York return address sat before her. The last time she opened one, it had lied to her.

_Paper can't lie_. But the person who wrote on it could. He could lie very well, indeed.

_Everyone picks their own poison_. She'd already chosen hers years ago.

_Dear Ann,_

_It looks like I've broken another promise. Or, rather, I've broken the same promise twice._

_I should congratulate you on your engagement. Prince Richard seems like a charming man. I hope he's good to you. You deserve the best, Ann._

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about Andrea. I just didn't think you would still like me after all those years. We're doing well here in New York. I have a daughter now. Her name is Angela. Guess who she's named after._

_Since this is a letter about breaking promises, I suppose I'll break another one. There were two things I wanted to tell you last time in Rome. You already know one of them. You can stop reading now, if you want to._

She did. She stopped and tore the letter into small pieces and threw them to the ground in anger and frustration and _tears_.

He had reduced her to tears.

_Of course I still like him_.

* * *

She had the Countess get amaid to sweep up the pieces, and retired to her room.

_Well, what if he said he loved you? Too late to know now. Too. Late._

She had enough experience in the world not to assume, but she could..._postulate_.

* * *

Oh, endless possibilities! What if he meant to say "I'm allergic to cucumbers"?

Hrm. I mean, Please review!


	15. Another Roman Holiday

A/N: Shameless _Evita_ tie-in. See if you can find it.

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! Except for the part where they're not. Oh, but Andrea and Angela belong to me. I stake my claim to those two.

I don't really like this chapter, but I need it to bring about the next ones, which I do like.

* * *

She needed a vacation. _Hell, so do you_. He didn't bother before the words came out of his mouth. 

"Ann, how does Rome sound to you?"

"Rome sounds like a monosyllabic word that brings to mind sun, food, and beautiful buildings," Andrea replied. She hadn't seen the papers that morning.

_You are a rotten scoundrel_.

He had.

_The odds are slim, next to none. You're not even a reporter any more._

But they both deserved a little rest. Angela could be left with some relatives for a week. He knew Andrea didn't want a child underfoot in a large city. _Rather ironic, seeing as how you live in New York City_.

The headline read "Queen Ann's Rainbow Tour to End in Rome."

Silly notion, really. She probably didn't even receive his letter.

_Or maybe she did, and she's laughing in your face right now._

She probably forgot about him.

_You certainly hope not._

"What would you say to a nice vacation in Rome, then?" She grinned.

"I would say of course."

Of course. He didn't deserve her. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was...well, wittier than he was. She deserved better than a man who was in love with royalty.

There. There was the enormity of his delirium; he loved a queen.

_Love is a wonderful thing to have when you can't fulfill it. Isn't it._

Of course it is.


	16. Fancy Meetings

Disclaimer: Sigh sigh sigh. I have no ownership of _Roman Holiday_ or its characters.

Another dialogue piece. Hu-rah. Guess where they are.

* * *

"Hello. Fancy meeting you here." 

"Fancy that. Where is your wife?"

"She's exploring the Coliseum. It's her first time in Rome."

"Very interesting place, that."

"Where's your husband?"

"Performing his favorite hobby, napping."

"Did your wish come true?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that?"

"I take that it didn't."

"You take correctly."

"Where's your usual crew? You didn't sneak out again, did you?"

"Actually, I did."

"Will the Mouth of Truth bite your hand off?"

"I suppose it will. But I did manage to ditch the Secret Service."

"They're not very subtle, are they?"

"No, but I suppose that is the price for looking sharp constantly."

"Tell me, what are you doing for the last few daylight hours by yourself in Rome?"

"Well, I'm not alone anymore. I had planned on going dancing."

"On a boat?"

"I am invited, you know."

"I should hope so. What will you do now?"

"That I do not know."

"Oh come on, you must have something in that pretty head of yours."

"Flatterer."

"No need to call names. Now, what did you have in mind?"

"Let's get on a scooter and find a church and get married."

"Can't do that, my dear."

"I thought not. It sounded good at the time, that's all."

"Yes, it did."

"I got your letter."

"You did. Is Prince Richard a beast?"

"A great, slumbering beast if that is your meaning."

"Well, I guess you deserved it."

"You're a beast, too."

"At least I'm awake."

"A mean, sarcastic beast is what you are."

"Is that all you read of my letter?"

"Yes."

"You're lying."

"I am not. You said I could stop right there, so I did."

"You know what we should do?"

"Dare I ask?"

"Let's go somewhere. Right now. Let's just...get a plane somewhere. Let's go to Australia. We could live in peace, all by ourselves, with no one to keep us apart."

"Whatever gave you the idea that I would want to go?"

"Well..."

"As much as I would want to, Joe, I don't have the same luxury as you of being able to disappear to a mysterious island where nightgowns aren't allowed."

"Nightgowns?"

"Such oppressive sleepwear should be outlawed."

"I'll believe you."

"You better."

"Andrea's probably looking for me. I should go."

"I suppose you should."

"May I guess that this is the last chance we get to be with each other?"

"Only if you want to. I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Then goodbye, Ann."

"Goodbye, Joe. I'm sorry I can't say something more."

"You don't have to."

"Don't touch me. I couldn't bear it if you did."

"All right, then."

"You should go. Andrea is probably looking for you."

"Yeah. Yes. Goodbye."

* * *

He actually did say that he loved her in his letter. Mmhmm.

Review.


	17. Singular Words

Disclaimer: Let it be known that these characters and story upon which this is based have been disclaimed to their proper owners.

W00t. 5 reviews, I think? Insane.

* * *

She hadn't said anything. 

_Maybe that was your problem. You didn't notice when she didn't talk._

He'd kissed Angela goodnight when she spoke.

She didn't think they were working out.

It wasn't either of them. It was just...she wasn't committed anymore, and he wasn't there anymore.

He couldn't counter. She was right.

_You were just too stupid to notice it_.

He told her he was sorry.

She said he didn't need to say that. She said that maybe they just needed to reconnect. Reconnect. That was the word she used.

_You don't know what she's saying_.

He really didn't know.

She said she felt like she was stuck.

He said he loved her.

She smiled. The smile lines in her face creased for a second.

Me too, she said.

And in a way, he did love her. It was just different from other loves. Theirs was love. It wasn't _love_.

He couldn't explain the difference. He didn't know how.

She took Angela with her on a vacation. Maybe then they could figure out what made them so happy and take it back.

He didn't know what she meant.

He watched the first snowflakes fall from the sky alone.

He read the magazines she subscribed to alone.

He got the letter a month later. He wasn't quite sure what it said.

Then the paper mentioned_ her_ name. He read the article, feeling alive for the first time in years.

He re-read the letter, and knew exactly what she wanted, even if she didn't.

She had signed it Ann.

He'd called her Andrea for the past two years.

* * *

Romantic? Sure. Very idealistic. But the person I based Andrea on is getting divorced. I have to share her pain. And...other supportive stuff

Review


	18. No Wedding and a Funeral

Disclaimer: I don't own them. They are not mine. I'm going to cry myself to sleep now.

Another dialogue-only piece! Yay! I'm running towards the end. _Running_.

* * *

"May I safely assume that _this_ is the final meeting between us?" 

"Please don't, Joe. I can't smile right now."

"Why not?"

"I should be in mourning."

"Hard to look the part when you're not crying."

"When in mourning, I'm not to shed tears or smile. So there."

"Poor Prince Richard. He choked on a piece of sausage?"

"That's what they think it was. I would hate to know what it was if it wasn't a sausage."

"So would I."

"Where's Andrea?"

"She's with Angela in Chicago."

"Shouldn't you be there, too?"

"She wanted a divorce."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"I'm not lying this time."

"I know you're not. You would have liked Andrea."

"I'm sure I would have."

"Why Rome?"

"Why not? He did like sleeping here the most."

"Must be the company."

"You've changed."

"We both have."

"My offer for the scooter is still up."

"My offer for Australia is still up."

"We could do both."

"But you won't."

"You know I can't. Why won't you understand that?"

"Who's going to take your place if you choke on a sausage?"

"I'm not sure. I don't want to marry again, and I don't want a child."

"Sure you do. Every girl wants a kid."

"I wouldn't be a good mother. I'm only good at looking pretty and saying words."

"Don't say that."

"I believe I just did."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"But."

"There always is one."

"Spend the day with me."

"The day is almost over, Joe."

"Then the night. Spend the night with me."

"They'll miss me."

"They didn't last time you—and not like that!"

"Not like what?"

"Your innocent eyelashes will get you nowhere, Ann."

"I only look for the scandals in headlines."

"You might be in them."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"For me, it would."

"They'd only notice me."

"Precisely."

"We shouldn't do this in public."

"Your men haven't shot me."

"They think you're an affectionate fan of me."

"In a way, I am."

"They don't know I'm an affectionate fan of you."

"Are you?"

"I might be."

"Do you want to go to the wishing wall?"

"Why? Did your wish come true?"

"No. Did yours?"

"No."

"Then why don't we go and make new wishes?"

"I'm all wished out."

"You're not."

"Besides, my wish would never come true."

"You don't know that."

"All right. I wish I could go out and get so drunk I forget my name."

"Rather a low wish, wouldn't you say?"

"I've never done it."

"Somehow, I can believe that."

"And then you could take advantage of me."

"Now that's _my_ wish."

"Two birds with one stone."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I know so."

"Would you like that on a plaque?"

"I'd prefer not."

"Then I'll have one made."

"That really wasn't my wish."

"I know, Ann."

* * *

Review


	19. Indulgences Can Be Bad For You

Sorry about the RIDICULOUS time between updates. I've been busy.

Disclaimer: I'm being lazy. See chapter 1.

_

* * *

_

She _had_ always liked the name Andrea.

_He would shoot me. _

She didn't write the letter.

She supposed that it would have been a good idea to. He had a right to know in some other way than the first thing on a Sunday morning.

_I just know he would_.

She really did indulge herself.

_So beautiful_.

The Countess had asked, repeatedly, why, and where, and when (_though that was rather obvious_) and most of all **who**.

_I can't tell_.

She had refused, begged off on the account of privacy.

_He would be livid_. _Reading it in the paper_.

But she told the Admiral it was Richard.

It added up rather neatly.

She supposed that, in the end, it wasn't terribly indulgent.

She really couldn't help it.

-end-

* * *

I know the lack of realism in this, but _goddammit_, that would be awesome. 

Please review. One last chapter, I think. Epilogue and such.


	20. Epilogue

Let's see...an Agatha Christie reference, a _North by Northwest_ quote, a butchered _To Kill a Mockingbird_ quote, and a _Little Man Tate_ idea. I am on a roll! Thazit, though. I did write all this a long time ago, but I've finally gotten around to posting all of it.

So. Thatzit.

Disclaimer: Refer to beginning of story.

* * *

"Would you shoot me if I sat here?" 

"I think I should ask you the same question."

"I could never shoot you."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"Why are you on the Blue Train?"

"Felt like taking a trip."

"Are you sure you didn't look up the list of passengers?"

"There are many things that I know about royalty. Which train they take would not be among them."

"All right then. You may sit down."

"Thank you."

"Charmed."

"You are not."

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Why would I be?"

"...No reason."

"You always have one."

"Do I?"

"Well, as far as I know."

"There you are then."

"Anything on the menu you recommend?"

"The brook trout. A little trouty, but quite good."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

* * *

"You could have told me." 

"I couldn't have."

"Out of all the things you have ever said to me, that's the only one I refuse to believe."

"Refuse away."

"How is Andrea?"

"She's doing well. Fussing a little, now that she's teething, but perfect in every other way."

"I wouldn't expect less."

"No, I don't think you would."

"You look beautiful."

"I look terrible. And besides, when have you ever cared just how I looked? Really."

"I've always cared. You look like a picture."

"You didn't say what kind of picture."

"I can't win."

"I shan't let you."

"I guess at the end of this trip we'll part ways."

"Most likely."

"I don't expect I shall ever, truly, see you again."

"Neither do I."

"I lo—"

"Don't say it. Please don't say it."

"All right then. How about...how about, instead of saying goodbye, we'll just say 'Good luck.'?"

"Sure. Whatever works for you."

"You're the one who's always had the problems with goodbyes."

"Because I so hate saying them to you."

* * *

"Here we are. Well, your Highness, it has been an interesting time on this train." 

"Indeed it has been, Mr. Bradley."

"Good luck."

"Good luck to you, too. I was delighted to meet you."

"If you will excuse my bluntness, are you happy, your Majesty?"

"So happy, Mr. Bradley."

"Well then. Good luck."

"Good luck."

* * *

I'm serious. This is the last one. This is the last chapter you can review on.

Why are you still reading? Press that little button!


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